Real or Not Real
by Lyrics Amidala
Summary: After a certain hallucination, Sherlock starts to wonder if he made a mistake. If she's still alive, and if he still feels... something for her. Sheriarty, with Sherlock/fem!Moriarty.
1. Hallucination

**Disclaimer: Let me just begin by saying that yours truly has not abandoned Johnlock. I will continue to ship my two little flat mates until they become canon. Also, Mary was epic, Anderson is one of my new favorite people, and I am slightly torn between staying faithful to Johnlock or branching off to Sheriarty. I always knew those two had chemistry, but I never thought the writers would include something like that crazy fan theory in the episode. The Empty Hearse was literally just every possible ship for Sherlock shoved in there for viewing pleasure. OK, done with my rant. So, I'm genderbending Moriarty, trying this out. Hope you all enjoy! **

"So, Mr. Holmes," the kidnapper said conversationally. "Why do you think you're here?" Sherlock shrugged, and tried to find a way out of the ropes tying his hands behind a chair. "Come on, Mr. Holmes, use that brilliant mind of yours."

"My brilliant mind is irritated by the fact that you kidnapped me because you need to draw blood illegally," Sherlock snapped. Damn it, where was John when you needed him? Well, with Mary probably, and Sherlock couldn't begrudge him that. Mary was a wonderful lady.

"Bravo," the kidnapper said, clapping ironically, before taking out a syringe. "If you'll excuse me now, Mr. Holmes." He gently inserted the tip into Sherlock's neck, and the world went fuzzy. Next thing Sherlock knew, he wasn't tied up, simply sitting on the chair, completely alone.

"What the hell?" He wondered, standing up. And then he heard heels. And there were only two people he knew that he could identify by their walk.

"Sherlock Holmes," a drawling voice said, rolling the r in his name slightly longer than necessary. "What a marvelous surprise." She hadn't changed a bit. Her silky black hair was still in a high ponytail, dark eyes glinting with gold and mischief. And she was pale. Almost as pale as a corpse. How fitting.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded. Jade Moriarty stepped closer to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Can't I come visit?" She asked.

"No, seeing as you're dead," he answered. "You shot yourself." Jade clapped ironically.

"Bravo Sherlock," she said. "Brilliant deduction. But you aren't the only one who can do that… neat little trick of yours." She stepped forward, and Sherlock simultaneously wanted to back away and come closer.

"Really?" He asked.

"It's not that complicated," Jade said, and with every word, she took another step closer. "Take yourself, for example."

"Myself?"

"Yes," she said, starting to circle him. "Dilated pupils, quickening of breath, ever so slightly sweaty hands, pulse… dear God, racing? Yes, put it all together, the signs are quite clear."

"Signs of what, Moriarty?" Sherlock asked. And when her voice sounded, her hands were on his shoulders, and her lips next to his ear.

"You…want…me." Sherlock barely contained his shiver.

"Do I?" He asked, turning around to face her. Jade folded her arms across her chest and smirked up at him.

"Yes," she explained. "More than you ever wanted Adler. Because I, dear Sherlock, am you. I am as smart as you; I can beat you. And there's fear, an enjoyable fear."

"The fear of disappointing each other," Sherlock finished. She told him that before. Jade once again closed the distance between them, but this time she seemed more vulnerable. She took a breath.

"That was my one fear, Sherlock Holmes," she admitted, her Irish accent making her sound ever so slightly like a little girl. "Disappointing you." Sherlock bent down so that their foreheads were almost touching.

"That was my fear too," he whispered hoarsely. And then, he was sitting on that chair again as John was frantically untying his hands again.

"Oh, thank God!" The doctor breathed. "You were out like a light during my entire fight." Sherlock pierced the veil of grogginess and saw his kidnapper laying on the floor, unconscious, a bloody lump on his forehead. Mary Morstan was standing watch over him, and she waved at Sherlock. Sherlock nodded, trying to fight off the dizziness.

"Why am I dizzy?" He asked as John got his hands free.

"A mixture of the knock out drug and blood loss," John explained. "Was it a hallucinatory drug? You seem disoriented." Sherlock thought back to what was now clearly a hallucination, to Jade standing so close, to the whispered words they had shared in his fevered mind. Of course that couldn't have been real. Jade had died two years ago on the roof of St. Bart's hospital. John slung Sherlock's arm over his shoulder and hauled the detective up.

"No," Sherlock lied. "It wasn't a hallucinatory drug. I just fell asleep." He pulled away from John. "I can stand on my own." John and Sherlock walked past Mary, who was tying up the kidnapper and dialing Lestrade.

"I'll be at Baker Street!" John called. But Sherlock didn't need John right now. He needed to know either that Jade was certifiably dead, or that it was somehow possible she survived shooting herself in the head. Was it? Maybe it was like Cluedo, where Sherlock wished it were, even if it technically seemed impossible.


	2. A Tour Of London

**Disclaimer: Hope the first chapter is enjoyable. This is going to be more backstory oriented, and the present timeline is set before John and Mary's wedding. This is just I, experimenting with a ship I don't generally ship, so bear with me. Also, forgot to mention that I don't own Sherlock and its sexy, **_**sexy**_** affiliates. Jade Moriarty looks like the wonderful Katie McGrath, everyone. Look her up, she's gorgeous.**

Sherlock had spent a lot of time since that night thinking. He always thought, but generally it was about how bored he was whenever he was between cases, as he was now. But now, Jade Moriarty was filling his thoughts. Her threats, her promises, her eyes, her hair, her physique, her everything. She had fascinated him from the start, making him dance as now other had. But what had surprised him was that, despite all of her deceit and her tricks, her emotions were surprisingly genuine. She never really faked any feelings; if she felt something, it was real. And to Sherlock, who could easily fake sadness or happiness or anger at mere whim, it was interesting. He hadn't known it at first, but it had become more obvious.

XXX

"You going out?" John asked. Sherlock nodded, putting on his coat and tying his scarf.

"I am," he said. "Don't wait up for me."

"So who is it?" John asked with a smile. "Your phone has been pinging all night." Sherlock waved a hand.

"That was just Mycroft," Sherlock said with a shrug. "I'm just going for a walk." John scoffed.

"OK, sure," he said as Sherlock shut the door behind him. He quickly descended the staircase, before going out and crossing the street. For about ten minutes he crisscrossed London, until he finally arrived outside the pool.

"What do you want?" He asked. "Here to kill me?"

"Actually no," Jade Moriarty replied, walking out, twirling a walking stick.

"Then what do you want me here for?" Sherlock demanded, facing her. She shrugged, making the braid over her shoulder move.

"The pleasure of your company?" She suggested. Sherlock laughed harshly.

"You tried to kill me last week," he pointed out.

"Yes, there's that, but why be picky about the details?" Jade let out a laugh that startled Sherlock. Mostly because it sounded genuine.

"Oh, you know me, Mrs. Moriarty," he said. "I do love details."

"Ms. Moriarty," Jade corrected. "And I need someone to show me around London. It's nothing like Dublin." Sherlock sighed, and starting walking off.

"Tell me about Dublin," he called over his shoulder. "And I'll tell you about London." And she did, easily matching his stride in a way John never could, telling him animatedly about her home city. It was entertaining to watch the malice slip from her eyes as she talked. Every once and a while, Sherlock would point something out, tell her little tidbits of things about the city. Couples walking through the streets give them this look, as if they were little puppies. It got annoying after a while, so Sherlock caught Jade's hand in his own.

"Beg pardon?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"People keep giving us looks, play along with it," he answered. Jade shrugged, and they continued to walk, until they made it back to Baker Street.

"Well, that was fun!" Jade crowed, yanking her hand out of Sherlock's. "We should do it again sometime. Or not, considering I'm going to kill you one day."

"You already tried and failed," Sherlock said condescendingly. "Maybe next time." Acting on impulse, he kissed her cheek before walking towards the door.

"Don't pretend you feel nothing for me Sherlock!" Jade called out, laughing gaily.

XXX

"What are you thinking about?" Mrs. Hudson asked, yanking Sherlock out of the memory.

"Oh, nothing in particular," he said with a wave of his hand. "Just in the mind palace." Mrs. Hudson nodded and went downstairs. Sherlock sighed, and thought about that day on the roof. Could he have missed something? And what slightly scared Sherlock was the fact that he wasn't sure if he wanted that or not.


	3. Dream

This was not how Sherlock wanted his evening to go. Well, that was a lie. This wasn't how he wanted John's evening to go. Sherlock was fine with being trapped in an abandoned warehouse, separated from his blogger and freezing cold.

"Where are you?" He muttered to himself, searching for the burly Serbian he had been chasing.

"Right here!" A singsong voice called out. "Well, actually, I'm over here." Sherlock turned with a weary sigh.

"How many more times must we play this game?" He asked, trying to locate where she was.

"As many times as I want," she answered. "As for that ginormous bear of a man, I'll let him have John."

"You don't touch John!" Sherlock shouted, whirling around wildly.

"I used to have a cat once," Jade said conversationally, still hidden. "I got sentimental over him too. And then I got bored with him."

"You're saying I'll get bored with John?" He demanded.

"He's not nearly as smart as you are," she explained. "Or as smart as I am," she added as an afterthought.

"I won't allow you to hurt John," Sherlock swore. Jade sighed.

"Sherlock," she began in a long-suffering voice. "I can see exactly where you are, but you can't find me. I'm a highly trained marksman. I can kill you with ease right here."

"Then why don't you?" Sherlock was genuinely curious. Jade hadn't needed to make her presence known. She could have just killed him on the spot.

"Because then, I'm fairly certain I would have disappointed you," Jade admitted. "The same way you didn't kill me at the pool, because I told you I would be disappointed. I'm you Sherlock. You can't abide disappointing me, and I can't abide disappointing you." Sherlock felt his heart stutter in his chest at the words. Because it was true. Alarmingly true, in fact. Jade was as much of a genius as he was, and his only competent opponent. And he didn't want to ruin their game.

"Well, I would be disappointed if you killed me," Sherlock said. "And that's why you won't. The same reason I didn't kill you. The threat of disappointment."

"Thank you for reiterating what I just said," Jade snapped, before sighing. "You might as well leave."

"So you came here simply to taunt me?" Sherlock asked incredulously. And suddenly, he felt a cold breath behind his ear.

"Yes," she whispered. "I rather enjoy doing that." He didn't turn around as he heard heels clicking off behind him. "I'll see you around, Sherlock!" She called over her shoulder, and he finally allowed himself to turn around, in time to see her hair swing behind a pillar and disappear.

"Eh, open up!" Sherlock roused himself drowsily from his sleep as he heard John knocking impatiently on his door.

"What?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. Great. Now he was dreaming about their encounters. His fascination, practically obsession with who she had been was permeating into his subconsciousness.

"Client," John said. "And we'd better hurry up with this one, I've got a date with Mary in five hours."

"Coming," Sherlock said, leaving dreams of Jade Moriarty in his darkened room and his rumpled sheets.


	4. Musical Heart

Sherlock enjoyed playing the violin extensively. He had always enjoyed it, ever since Mycroft had taught him when he was seven years old. So now, whenever he needed to think about something, he got out his violin and played. Played a lot, in this case, with a beautifully complicated case that was at times lacking a John, do to the fact that he still needed to make wedding arrangements. Psh, the case was more important. So Sherlock was playing now, standing in the sunshine in front of his window, drawing the bow over the strings. His mind was too far into its palace to really think about what he was playing. It could be Beethoven, or even one of his own compositions. _Think, Sherlock, think. What is the one thing connecting all of this? Come on, THINK. _But there was a slight stirring from behind him, and Sherlock slowed his playing.

"Oh, don't stop on my account," a silky voice purred in his ear. He stopped all together.

"Get the hell out of my flat," he hissed.

"I don't think so," Jade said, smirking. "John's out, and I've got you all to myself." Sherlock became acutely of the fact that she was a dress shirt and dress pants, all black and expensive looking.

"Do you ever get tired of playing with me?" He asked, setting the bow aside. Jade made a little mew of discontentment.

"I liked that song you were playing," she complained, looking at him through hooded eyes. "Did you write it for me?"

"No," Sherlock stated flatly.

"Shame, sounded like something I could have used for my theme song," she said, shrugging one shoulder. Her smirk widened as she stepped closer to him. "To answer your question, I _never _get tired of playing with you Sherlock." Sherlock stared down at the smaller woman, with her eyes glinting of gold and malice, lips twisted with sardonism. But it did a poor job, in Sherlock's opinion, of masking a face that could easily be seen as vulnerable.

"But you're losing at your own game," he realized. Jade's eyes widened in surprise.

"Beg pardon?" She asked smoothly. She didn't seem flustered at all.

"This little cat and mouse game of yours," he said, coming closer to her until she had to incline her head to keep eye contact with him. "It's turning into cat versus cat."

"Dream on Sherlock darling," Jade sneered. "I've got you on a little hook."

"Maybe you do," Sherlock admitted. "But you've put yourself on that hook as well." Jade laughed incredulously.

"You're delusional," she said.

"No more than you, Jade." She attempted to step away; but Sherlock's hand around her wrist stopped her.

"You should really let go of me," she warned, teeth ever so slightly bared into a miniscule little snarl. Sherlock leaned down until the two geniuses were practically breathing the same air.

"No," he hissed. Jade swallowed audibly. "You don't have all the power in this game."

"I think I do," she murmured, threading a hand through his hair. And then she kissed him. Sherlock, for all of his genius, did not expect that, and he did not expect himself to respond. But he did end up kissing her back, which must have shocked the both of them. Finally, Jade broke off first, staring at him, all traces of sarcasm and evil wiped from her face, leaving her looking, just as Sherlock suspected, more vulnerable.

"Well," Sherlock breathed, fluffing his hair with his hands.

"Well," Jade agreed. "That was something, Sherlock. I hope you treated Irene Adler that well." She stepped away from him, and whipped around, before smirking at him over her shoulder. "We really should do that again sometime," she said suggestively, before sauntering out of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock sighed, and turned back to his violin.

"Excuse me?" Mary asked, yanking Sherlock out of the memory. He wasn't sure when he had stopped thinking about his case and started thinking about the time that he had kissed his arch nemesis. He was playing the same song he had been playing that way. He turned to John's fiancée, putting the bow away.

"So sorry," he apologized. "I was thinking." Mary laughed.

"That much was obvious," she said. "Is John here yet?" Sherlock shook his head, and the blond sat down. "What were you thinking about?" Abandoning the thought of simply being able to play his violin in peace, Sherlock put it away and turned to face Mary.

"Nothing in particular," he lied. Mary shook her head.

"You were thinking about someone special," she said. "Do you want to talk about it?" Sherlock thought about it, and sat down opposite John's fiancée.


	5. An Explanation and A Sighting

He was about to ask if Mary had ever felt a certain connection to someone, but that was a stupid question. She was getting married, of course she had.

"Just let me get my thoughts together," he said.

"It's all right," Mary reassured. "It's always hard to talk about the people you love." Sherlock barked out a laugh, because whatever he and Jade had once had, it wasn't love. Or at least, a twisted, darkened version of love.

"Not really," Sherlock said. "It wasn't love."

"John did mention you were practically incapable of the emotion," Mary joked.

"Neither was she," Sherlock admitted. "It was someone I knew. I knew her extraordinarily well."

"So, she was more like your other half?"

"That's the closest thing you could say," he told her. "But it was more like… that one person who is very much like you, except for one little detail."

"Well, she was a girl," Mary said. Sherlock laughed, and shook his head.

"She did the opposite of what I do," he rectified. "But sh was…charismatic. Charming, when she wanted to be. She was enigmatic, dynamic. She drew you into her plots and schemes; she could twist anyone around her finger." He could almost imagine her then, silky black hair rippling down her back, eyes glimmering, lips curled up, roaming the flat with a loping, catlike walk, trailing her hands on things.

"Did you love her?" Mary asked.

"I'm not sure," Sherlock answered truthfully. "It was something. Something that she felt too. But we were on opposite sides."

"What happened to her?"

"She died," Sherlock stated bluntly. "She killed herself."

"When she realized she couldn't beat you?" Sherlock shook his head.

"When she realized that dying was the only way to beat me," he clarified. The memory was so clear. Shaking hands with her as she thanked him, the quick kiss she planted on his lips, before, with a wide smirk, she pulled out the gun and blew out her brains. Sherlock remembered shouting "NO!" and his distress at the loss of his final out, and at the loss of Jade Moriarty herself. Mary put her hand on his.

"Well, I'm sorry," she comforted. Sherlock nodded his thanks, and then felt the blood drain from his face.

"Yeah, no," a familiar voice said. "I'm leaving right now." He bolted for the door, wrenching it open in time to see someone disappear, arguing angrily into her phone.

"Sherlock?" Mary asked. "What is it?" Sherlock shook his head to clear it. Great. Now he was seeing her everywhere. He was going crazy.

"Nothing," he said with certainty. "You should call John and see where he is." Mary nodded and walked back into the flat, and Sherlock shut the door with a firm hand.


	6. Criminal At A Crime

She helped him with a case once. John had been busy doing something, and he had been pacing outside of Baker Street, trying to put clues together.

"You're going about it wrong," a voice said silkily as Jade strode up to him. "This little case you're doing, you're going about it wrong."

"Let me guess," Sherlock said sarcastically. "You're here to tell me how you have prevailed against me once more."

"OK, not true, because this one isn't mine," Jade began. "Also, maybe I came for the pleasure of your company, and/or a make out session." Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Begging your pardon?" He choked out.

"Aw, did I make my little virgin blush?" She asked, pursing her lips and stepping closer to him. "I can die happily."

"Feel free to do just that."

"Ouch!" Jade reeled back, her hand on her heart. "Oh, ow. That hurt me sweetheart. I really thought we had something special."

"One kiss doesn't make us lovers," Sherlock said, and Jade smirked. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him again. Sherlock wasn't caught off guard this time, and he did reciprocate.

"Mmmm," Jade hummed when they pulled away. "How about now?" Sherlock threw back his head and laughed. Jade chuckled herself, before taking out a cigarette, lighting it, and purposefully blowing the smoke in Sherlock's direction.

"I need to concentrate," he whined.

"And I need to smoke," Jade argued. "Deal with it darling." Before Sherlock could answer, a knife whizzed past his ear and embedded itself very close to the where Jade was leaning on the wall.

"Shit!" He muttered, whirling around in time to watch a coat whip and disappear behind a corner.

"Oh, that little bastard is dead," Jade growled, stamping the cigarette butt under her boot.

"You're going to chase a criminal across London?" Sherlock demanded.

"If your little pet can do it, so can I," Jade reasoned, before taking off.

"Shit!" Sherlock said again, running after her. She was faster than him, being smaller and making it easier for her to navigate spaces, even though Sherlock had longer legs. The culprit had knives that he repeatedly thought appropriate to throw at the pair, until Jade got annoyed and threw one back at him. Luckily, it snagged his coat and brought him down. Unluckily, it also pissed him off so that he was screaming obscenities when Jade thought it was appropriate to jump on him and punch him in the face. Several times. Sherlock had to drag her off his bleeding body.

"You can calm down now," he whispered in her ear.

"I recognize him," Jade said simply. "Knew him once. He defected."

"From your crime web?" Jade hummed in affirmation.

"Well, I'm going to go," she said, patting his cheek. "I'll see you around, I'm sure." Sherlock fished out his phone to call Lestrade as she strutted off.

XXX

"Excuse you!" John called in agitation as the woman just walked in a puddle of something alongside the body he was examining.

"So sorry darling," the woman purred without looking back at him. John turned to Sherlock, who had gone alarmingly pale.

"Sherlock?" He asked. "Are you OK?"

"Who was that?" He asked hoarsely.

"No idea." John glanced sideways at his friend. "Did you recognize her?" Sherlock stared after the mystery woman for the longest time.

"No," he said. "No, I didn't."


	7. Ambivalence

"Congratulations to the happy couple," a voice drawled, brushing past John and Mary.

"Excuse you!" John cried, offended at their guest's rudeness. And then he noticed the swinging black hair, and the hand that vaguely waved. John didn't have to face her to know the smirk that was on her face. _God. Do I go after her? Do I leave her alone? _

"Are you alright?" Mary asked, putting a hand on his arm. John nodded.

"Fine," he said. He would check up on Sherlock later, to make sure she didn't kill him.

XXX

"Can I borrow a lighter?" Sherlock sighed, and flipped open the tiny metal device, eliciting a flame. "Thank you babe." At that, Sherlock turned, and there she was, leaning against the same wall as him, eyes staring up at him through half lowered lids.

"I've gone nuts," he said. "Officially." She laughed silkily, leaning her head back on the wall.

"Maybe you have, maybe you haven't," she said. "Have you ever heard of a blank gun?"

"There was blood," Sherlock countered.

"You didn't check for a pulse," she shot back. "Anyway, I'm not here to argue."

"Because you aren't real." Jade sighed, and blew out smoke into the cold English air.

"You left the wedding early," she observed. "Why?"

"Because John and Mary didn't need me around," Sherlock answered.

"Let me guess, no one needs you around any more."

"You make it sound so self pitying," Sherlock said. "What if I'm just stating a fact?"

"Well, you aren't," Jade answered. "Mrs. Hudson needs you. Scotland Yard still needs you quite often."

"What about you?" _Hallucination Sherlock, you're talking to a hallucination. _"Do you need me?"

"I know that I want you," Jade said musingly. "And I guess that, in some sense, I do need you. I also know that you want me. Whether you need me is an entirely different thing."

"We're one in the same," Sherlock told her. "If you need me, then I need you. Jade smiled, and crushed the cigarette stub under her heel.

"Well, that was a fun chat," Jade said, although she made no move to leave. "I'm glad I got to talk to you." Without warning, she stretched up and kissed him. Sherlock, fool that he was, kissed her back, and then stupidly felt his throat close up with something akin to tears.

"You're not real," he reminded himself. "You're dead."

"Why don't you go to the roof of St. Bart's tomorrow and make sure?" Jade asked, before walking off, no swagger or saunter this time, just simply walking. And somehow, Sherlock knew he would go. Because he was a fool when it came to Jade Moriarty, dead or alive.


	8. Back On The Roof

It was cold and windy, the way it always was in London. Jade pulled her coat tighter around her body, biting her lip with chattering teeth. Of all the days to arrange a rendezvous with the man who thought her dead for two years, she couldn't have picked a worse day. Jade would never admit this to anyone, but she was nervous about how Sherlock would deal with her, now that she was alive. Jade Moriarty existed once more, and that meant it was very easy for Sherlock to haul her to a courtroom and put her in prison for the rest of her life. Or worse, turn her over to his brother, who surely had a grudge against her and the means to make her scream. She hadn't screamed in those weeks in his hold before the whole fiasco she created, but she had come close. Mycroft knew how torture people. Such a shame he wasn't with her. She could have used someone like him. Ah well, she still had Moran. Moran, who put an off switch on a bomb like a fucking Scooby Doo villain. Ugh.

"Well," a voice said, and Jade jumped. "Here you are."

"Let's call this progress," Jade said. "It's turned to you sneaking up on me." She turned to face Sherlock, her black hair whipping in the breeze. Sherlock looked the same he always had, beautiful and cold.

"Yes, after I thought you had died," Sherlock said tonelessly. "Well, I'm sort of getting a taste of my own medicine."

"Oh, you poor thing," Jade sneered. "You were forced to tear down my entire livelihood. How utterly tragic."

"Well, I would have had to if you hadn't threatened to kill my friends." Jade knew that they were going to have words about that, but she hadn't expected to feel so defensive.

"I warned you, _my dear," _she said, gritting her teeth slightly. "That I would burn you. That I would end you."

"Well then," Jade could see the irritation in Sherlock's face. "Would you mind telling me how you did it?" Jade nodded.

"You're right," she admitted. "I do owe you an explanation." Sherlock waited. "It contained face masks, fake accents, wigs, and something called HAVING A FUCKING EMPLOYEE!"

"I thought you said something about a blank gun." Jade laughed bitterly.

"Fibbed," she said sharply. "I'm a bad girl, I do that." Sherlock shook his head.

"So why come back?" He demanded. "Why show yourself again?"

"I'd been trying to find you ever since employees of mine started dropping like flies," Jade supplied.

"I was on the news for a while," Sherlock said dryly. "What, were you too scared to show up?" Jade sneered at the suggestion she had been scared. She was Jade Moriarty; she didn't get scared.

"Well, it's cold, and this has not been enjoyable," she concluded with a clap of her hands, beginning to walk off, before Sherlock's hand encircled her arm.

"You're not running away again," he told her.

"Oh, gives me tingles when you get controlling like that," she said with a smirk, but Sherlock wasn't amused.

"I'm done playing your manipulative games," he told her. "You have strung me along, threatened me, and made me love you. And I am sick of it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she told him mockingly, attempting to wrench herself away from Sherlock's grasp. She didn't succeed. "I didn't realize loving me was so horrendous."

"Not if I don't know if this just another game to watch me dance," he told her. Jade straightened herself up as far as she could to make herself taller, lifting her chin defiantly.

"I spent a year hunting for you, after believing you were dead," she answered. "I kept others off of your tail while you were destroying everything I built. I killed and almost got killed for you. Does that answer your question?" And Sherlock kissed her. In the history of their very fucked up relationship, Jade had always been the one who initiated the make out session. But Jade wasn't going to lie; she had missed Sherlock like she would have missed breathing. Maybe they weren't a perfect, happy couple the way he could have been with Molly Hooper, but they were practically two halves of the same whole, drafted to opposing sides. Jade realized that he had let go of her arm, and she could pull away at any moment she chose, but all she did was wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back.

XXX

"Excuse me!" One of the security guards called. He was prepared to demand why there were two idiots on the roof, but the sight stopped him short. A man with sharply accented bones and dark, curly hair was clinging to a petite, silky haired woman. With the wind whipping coats and scarves, and the lovely gray of the London backdrop, it looked like some sort of scene from one of those old romantic movies. The guard smiled, and decided to let the couple be.

XXX

"I guess you are real after all," Sherlock whispered. Jade laughed, a happy, burbling sound.

"Very real," she told him. It was weird, having the two geniuses there, in close proximity, the closest to the pure emotion of love their dark souls would ever get to. But that was good enough.


End file.
